


Wraith 101

by Scribblesinink (Scribbler)



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-06
Updated: 2009-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribbler/pseuds/Scribblesinink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had thought Sammy was the ultimate geek. Until, in a galaxy far, far away, he met Doctor Rodney McKay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wraith 101

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [Crazy Crossover Challenge](http://scribbler.scribblesinink.com/2009/01/24/crazy-crossovers/), for [tanaquisga](http://tanaquisga.livejournal.com/) who requested _Dean Winchester and Rodney McKay_, and then also did wonderful betawork again.

"What the hell...?"

Dean instinctively ducked his head at the blue streak of light that zipped toward him out of nowhere. It missed by an inch, singeing his hair, and the air in its wake stank of ozone.

"Wraith!" Dean glanced back at the man behind him, who was angrily shaking something that looked like an oversized cellphone. "I thought Zelenka said this planet was safe!"

More blue slashes of light came flying at them, and Dean dove for the nearest cover, a small space between two walls—only to find it already occupied. He squeezed himself tighter into the narrow gap, not caring about the indignant squeak that his jabbing elbow brought out of Rodney McKay. Those blue whatevers looked and smelled deadly, and _fuck_, sci-fi movies weren't supposed to be real.

"What the hell is that thing?" Right before dodging out of the bolts' path, Dean had caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a Goth concert reject with bad skin. Tall creature too, at least as tall as Sam.

"It's a Wraith," Rodney repeated, as if that should mean anything to Dean. "Alien hybrid race. They may appear humanoid, but genetically they're actually closely related to the Iratus bug, from which they inherited the ability to regenerate. Nasty little creature, that bug." He scrunched up his face in disgust. "Oh, and the Wraith feed on humans. They've got this—" Rodney flapped a hand in front of Dean's face and pointed at his palm "—organ here that sucks the life right out of you, leaving nothing but a dry husk." He shivered visibly.

Dean stared at Rodney. Most of what the scientist had just said sounded like gibberish to him, but the fear and loathing was evident in Rodney's expression.

"So...," Dean peered cautiously around the corner, and another blue bolt of whatever zapped past him. He quickly pulled back behind the safety of the wall. "So, they're evil?"

Rodney pursed his lips together in disapproval. "What part of _they feed on humans_ don't you understand?"

Dean glared. Just because he wasn't _from_ here was no reason to treat him like an idiot. "How do I kill it? Salt? Silver? Iron?"

"What?" Rodney stared at him. "No. No no no." He shook his head vigorously to underscore his words. "Did you also miss the part where I said they regenerate? That means they _heal_ themselves."

"I know what it means." Dammit, this guy was worse than Sam at his geekiest. "What are you saying? They're immortal?" Dean had yet to meet a creature that was impervious to any and all weapons.

"Of course not." Rodney rolled his eyes. "There's no such thing as immortality. If a Wraith gets injured badly enough, it won't be able to heal fast enough, and it dies. Say, if you blow it up, or if you cut off its head—"

Dean grinned. "Like _Highlander_?"

"What?" Rodney blinked.

Dean turned away and risked another glance around the corner. Didn't matter, anyway. He'd left the machete in the trunk of the car, and his baby was... well, not _here_. Down the track, the Wraith was approaching steadily, and they didn't have much time left.

He realized Rodney was still talking.

"...or if you shoot it with enough bullets. You know, that's usually what works: we fire our weapons until they drop, and then run away before they can get back up."

Dean smirked. He checked his Colt 1911 and made sure the gun was fully loaded, cocked and ready. "That," he said, rolling out of their hiding place and raising the weapon, "I can do."

***


End file.
